


Escape

by audreyslove



Series: Escape Series [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 02:47:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13538055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/audreyslove/pseuds/audreyslove
Summary: Written for #OQArtistWeek based on art by the lovely @starscythe.Regina is a broadcast journalist, Robin is her boss. Though they like one another, circumstances keep them from acting on their feelings, until fate intervenes and blows up their whole world.





	Escape

It's just coffee.

She repeats that every time they go out in these excursions.

They are coworkers, and it's just coffee. Or in her case, tea. Just tea.

Coworkers drink coffee and tea together.

There's nothing scandalous about that.

But coworkers don't find whatever excuse they can to brush against one another. Coworkers don't trade intimate details of their lives that they don't even share with best friends, cry on each other's shoulders, or spend the majority of the day stealing glances at one another. And coworkers definitely, definitely do not fantasize about one another.

So maybe she's just a coworker to him, but he is absolutely more than that to her.

"He asked me to marry him," she says quietly. She hates to bring it up, but Robin should know about the proposal. He's her friend. Her best friend. The only person in this entire competitive, cutthroat network whom she trusts. Definitely the only person who honestly cares about her. But it's not that, not just the fact that they are friends that has her feeling obligated to tell him about the proposal. He should know because of the way he looks at her.

The way they look at one another.

She watches his eyes fly to her naked ring finger. "What did you say?" He looks hopeful, as if she finally made the right decision. But he's wrong.

"We've been dating forever, and I think there's more positive than negative. I said yes." She covers her left hand with her right. "The, er, ring is being resized."

"Eight years and he doesn't know your ring size," Robin grumbles.

"Do you?" She asks defiantly. "It's not something men know, unless you are in a habit—"

"A habit of buying jewelry for the woman you love?" he quips. "I assure you if I had proposed to you I'd know your ring size. I'd take one of your rings to the jewelers to match it. Or, Christ, a good jeweler could show you what each width looks like, and, I've held your hand enough to know what your fingers feel like from memory, so I'd—"

It's a bit too honest, has her squirming a bit, because he's right, absolutely right, he's held her hand so many times, but also, this is wrong. Absolutely wrong. And what right does he have to criticize her decisions in her love life when he's never tried to be a part of it?

"Sorry," he breathes, "I should be congratulating you, I'm just… I don't think he's good enough for you."

That's... sweet, she supposes. And to be fair she's shared her problems with Graham many times, so perhaps it's understandable that Robin would feel this way.

"If there's someone better, I haven't found him." Regina says, staring defiantly at him.

"Any man in his right mind would be over the moon to have you," he whispers. It's honest, too honest. But she's made her choice, and this can never be, anyway. There's a strict no fraternization policy at work. He's technically her boss, so that's an extra layer of forbidden, isn't it?

"Let's talk about something else," Regina says, lifting a hand off the table to smooth her hair. "Something to make me feel... happy."

He offers her a sad smile, and she knows it's very telling that talk of a proposal is depressing her, but well, that's the way it is, damn it.

He shifts the topic to their quirky coworker, and then they are laughing, exchanging jokes and smiles and touches as if nothing had changed.

Things go well until her phone pings. It's a reminder chime, and she frowns, glancing down at it curiously. There's nothing on the schedule for today that she can remember.

"Shit," Regina grumbles, "Robin, there's a meeting today. In 5 minutes." She turns her screen to his.

He looks puzzled. "I swear I didn't know anything about this, Regina."

He grabs his phone and checks emails frantically. "Looks like it's an emergency meeting to deal with the Army of God threats again." He rolls his eyes.

"Anything I should be worried about?" Regina asks, sipping the last of her tea.

"No, no credible threats. But their leader is appearing on Fox today, and we expect him to give us and a few other organizations a bit of a shout out. You know how that goes."

"Get ready for hate mail and death threats," Regina says rolling her eyes and rising from her chair. "We are going to be late. We have to hurry."

The meeting is on the fifth floor. She thinks he realizes what that means at the same time she does — right when they reach the elevator. The fifth floor meeting room is large, with glass walls that face the elevator. Everyone will see them walking in late, together, and that won't do much for rumors that have already started about the two of them.

And really, with her occupation, it's sort of assumed she will try to sleep her way to the top at one point or another. Who better than a media director often tasked with assigning high profile interviews to reporters like her?

"You take the elevator," he says, with a frown. "I'll use the back stairs."

The back elevator and stairs are not to be used for anything other than moving in the high profile guests or interviewees that need and added layer of security. Robin is one of only a few with the code. And while he can't use the back elevator (risk of being seen using a secured area) he can probably sneak up the stairs. No one really even knows that stairwell exists. It's hidden and secure, designed that way for good reason.

Regina nods. "See you there."

He smiles at her and rushes off, waving slightly as he goes.

And then she waits for her elevator as impatiently as one can possibly wait.

(She will look back on this day and thank god for the fact the elevator seemed to be stopping at every floor at a treacherously slow pace. Thank god that she figured she could use the exercise. Thank god it all, because she might have been dead had she waited for it. Instead, she'd opted for the stairwell. It was only five flights, after all…)

After what feels like an hour, but is only probably a few minutes, she turns towards the stairwell and decides to make up for lost time. She's cursing her heels as she rounds the stairs to the third floor when the first explosion hits with a  _ Crack  _ and a  _ Boom! _

It's so much noise, so loud it almost feels as if there's no sound at all. Debris falls from the ceiling, covers her in dusty plaster and paint chips, and god knows what else, her head is spinning, ears are ringing, eyes burning as there is one thought going through her mind.

_ Robin _ .

The explosion reverberates everywhere in that stairwell, echoed and shimmied from every inch of the walls, and she doesn't know where it came from, but god let it not have come from that secured stairwell. Not where they keep the high profile guests, where someone who is targeted might be hiding, please let him be alright.

She turns back to the third floor door and opens it. People are panicking, running towards her, a fire alarm is sounding, the emergency lights are flickering, and the crowd is shouting that she turn around, but she's not listening, her mind is racing with hypothetical scenarios she wishes she could erase from her memory, heart nearly exploding at the thought of losing him.

_ Robin, please be okay, Robin. _

She reaches the secured area in the back, elbowing past frantic people trying to push her away. But it's mostly clear now. She hears some  _ pop, pop, popping  _ from above, isn't sure what that is, what's happening, and the ceiling above feels like it's moving, giving out… will it collapse?

She reaches the back area, finds that secured back door, and knocks and screams. It's still locked. She had held out hope that with the electricity going out maybe the electronic lock would fail and she'd be able to get to Robin.

But they must have a different power source. The code button is still there, gleaming red awaiting an electronic badge or code to be punched into the keypad below. And she has neither.

She has nothing but fists and her voice as she punches and screams.

"Robin! Robin!"

_ Robin is alive, Robin is okay. He's resilient and smart and cunning and he's a survivor and that's what survivors DO. They survive. _

These little  _ pop pop pops  _ sound closer and louder now, she still isn't sure what it is, but it's followed by more screams and that can't be good.

There could be anything on the other side of this door, she very well knows that. There could be men with guns and suicide bomb vests on, Robin could already be dead, they could have used this stairwell to—

It really doesn't matter to her, she'd gladly risk her life for that wonderful man. He's everything to her.

"Robin, please!" She screams again. Her hands are bloody now, banging carelessly against an ungiving door.

An ungiving door that opens, suddenly.

"Regina, oh thank god, Regina!"

He takes her in his arms and pulls her inside. Her heart is beating so loud in her chest, breath coming out in heavy pants, and it's only then that she allows herself to cry in wet frantic sobs against his chest.

"I was so worried, I thought I lost you," she sobs, not caring how it sounds, she doesn't need pretenses anymore.

"It's okay, darling, it's okay. I'm just fine." He strokes her hair and plants kisses where he can, and it should be highly inappropriate but there's no sense in pretending now. No sense in denying she craves this type of intimacy from him any longer. Not now, when she's not sure how much longer they have on this Earth.

"Let's go."

The secured area is small. There's a little atrium with an elevator, decorated with fake plants and motel style art jazzed up with opulent picture frames. There are a few doors, all with coded locks.

One of the doors is propped open by a brown loafer, and it's only then that she realizes Robin isn't wearing any shoes. The matching loafer is in his hand. But his suit jacket is missing...

"I propped open the doors to the fourth floor in case you came," he explains, "tried to get to the fifth, but..." he pauses, then shifts his focus. "We have to go." He grabs his shoe from the ground and puts it on.

"Shouldn't we keep this open, for the others, in case they—"

"No."

Robin shakes his head soundly and places a hand on her shoulder. "There is a man with a machine gun. He probably has a partner. The bomb was only phase one, it was a small bomb that I doubt killed anyone. All it did was have everyone running in the same direction, which helps us for now. But soon they will go for those who stayed behind, and….we can't risk it, we have to save ourselves."

"But the others, they…" Regina tries to argue but Robin just shakes his head.

"Everyone ran towards the emergency exits."

Emergency exits. Like where she was, before she ran in the opposite direction. Was there now a gunman in that stairwell, shooting at a fearful crowd of coworkers? She shudders.  _ Shit. _

"No one knows that anyone is using these stairs today. People looking for safety won't go here. The people who have the code, like me, know they completely shut down when there's indication of an explosion. Even a code won't work now, that's why I propped all these doors open. The only ones who would try using this entrance are the..."

She swallows heavy. She knows what he means. Whoever is attacking will go for this place eventually. And, though she doesn't know much about these stairs, she assumes they would make a perfect escape route, at bare minimum.

Robin doesn't say anything, he just looks back into her eyes tenderly and strokes her cheek with his palm, let's his fingers slide through her hair in a way that calms her, despite the circumstances of the world around them right now.

"I have to... look, just stay here," he directs, grabbing her by the shoulders and pressing her against the wall.

Is he crazy?

"Robin,  _ no!" _

He's turning towards the stairs to go  _ up, up.  _ And no, dear god not up, they need to get out of the building immediately, they need to go  _ down _ , not up.

"I have to close the door to the fourth floor… I need to make sure they don't get in while we're here," he whispers.

She doesn't respond, just throws her arms around his neck in some desperate attempt to stop him, to touch him, to be close to him…

His hands wrap behind her waist, head tilted at just the right angle, his lips inches away from her. She closes the distance and kisses him deeply, passionately. He doesn't seem surprised by her boldness, for he's responding to the kiss with a force and enthusiasm that makes her weak. This is all she's ever wanted since the moment she met him, soft lips and warm tongue sliding and caressing against hers, hands tangled in her hair as he kisses like there's no tomorrow (will there even be one?)

He tears away from her mouth as the sound of the steady thrum of what she now assumes is a machine gun sounds oddly closer.

"I'll be right back." He promises. "But if you don't see me in five minutes, take this all the way down to the parking lot. I'll meet you there."

He's not even gone two minutes. He's only out of her sight for 72 seconds, actually. She knows because she counts each horrifying second she's apart from him with a shaky exhale. And on  _ seventy-two Mississippi  _ he's back, carrying a suit jacket and a tie. "Got it," he rasps.

She nods dumbly, and lets him lead her down the stairs. There's a second explosion, a loud and deafening boom that shakes the whole building, and she feels like she's swaying... swaying... ready to fall. But everything goes still, and she's safe, white-knuckling Robin's wrist as they continue their descent.

They scurry past the first floor, further down below. She thinks it must be the parking garage. But then he seems to change his mind, opening a side door to a separate, narrow hallway instead.

"Connects to the St. Regis," he whispers, "And god knows what else, but we used this for the interview with the Saudi Arabian ambassador to circumvent the protestors."

She can't speak, can only nod. Her lungs are frozen in her throat, veins pumping with adrenaline and she can almost  _ feel  _ every loud, abrupt beat of her heart.

"Okay, I need you to stay here," he says, pushing her toward the corner behind the door he is about to open. "I'm going to go out first and make sure it's safe. I'll knock three short knocks on the door. Then you run out. If I don't get back to you by—"

"No, let me come with you, I—"

"Please, Regina I've no idea what is on the other side of this door and I need to do this, I need to protect you. Okay?"

She can't answer him in words, not with a lung caught in her throat and her heart beating so hard she feels she will collapse. So she wraps her arms around him tightly and lets her embrace do the talking for her. If this is the last time, if there  _ is  _ something on the other side of that door, if…

He's the one who kisses her now. It's rough and hungry and loving at the same time. She pours every emotion she has in it, despite her lack of ability to breathe. It slows and tempers, hot and passionate as it may be. She kisses him back like she was meant to, like she's wanted to for years, like it seems  _ he  _ has wanted to for years.

When he pulls away, he's smiling, looking almost goofy and carefree, and it would be adorable if there weren't sirens and machine guns combining together to make the creepiest musical score for this romantic moment that ever did exist.

"Quickly," she urges, smoothing both hands over his shoulders. "Come back to me as soon as you can." He nods, squeezes her hand and then opens the door carefully and slips through it.

The minute he closes the door she feels cold and frightened. Guns are going off somewhere, they sound louder than before, maybe. She's struggling to figure out where the guns are coming from, exactly, when she hears the three raps against the door. She opens it urgently, sees him, a finger to his lips, grabbing her hand, and then they are running through an abandoned parking garage, running towards the dull exit sign that promises to be their salvation.

But the garage is dimly lit and there are so many places for people to be hiding and waiting, she feels like a walking target, waiting for someone to pop out at any time. She runs with Robin on heeled feet, feet she can no longer feel, and focuses on getting to safety.

When they reach the exit stairwell things don't  _ feel  _ any safer. Its utterly abandoned, or so it seems, but it's also not well lit, and every set of stairs they pass reveals a new perspective, a new corner where someone could hide, ready to pounce.

She doesn't remember taking a breath until they are faced with the exit to the street, and the exit to the hotel. Robin seems to be contemplating at both doors.

"Hotel," he whispers, ushering her along. "Street isn't safe."

The hotel is a bit of a chaos. A security guard is blocking the front entrance, with the words of "snipers" and "car bombs" as the explanation.

They should just stay here, and she'd be perfectly happy staying here, except one look in Robin's eyes and she knows he can't stay.

_ Roland. _

They need to get home to Roland.

"Stay here," Robin says, "I've got to find a way out. They are targeting  _ us,  _ I need to make sure they aren't also attacking our families, and I can't get cellphone service. I need to make sure Roland…"

"I'm coming with you." She insists. She can wait thirty seconds to have him clear a hallway, but she cannot wait hours, or days, to make sure he's alright. He starts to protest, to babble something about her safety, but no, he doesn't understand. "I'm coming with you, Robin. I can't sit here for god knows how long when cell phones don't work and I have no idea whether you are alive or not, I can't, and Roland, he means a lot to me, too, I have to know, I have to.."

She doesn't realize she's been crying until he wraps his arms around her and  _ shh _ sher, one hand around her waist and the other threading through her hair.

"I can't lose you," he whispers into her ear. "I love you too much."

And there it is. She never dared to hope it was  _ that,  _ always assumed he felt attraction and  _ care  _ for her, but not  _ love _ , never love.

"I can't lose you either," she sobs, "Please, you're the only person— you mean— I can't lose you."

She's able to convince him, somehow, because the next thing she knows he's leading her down a stairwell.

"An exit strategy," he explains, "only a few of us know about this, only those of us who deal with the high profile interviewees."

People are calling and asking where they are going, but Robin keeps running, holding onto her hand tightly.

They enter the laundry area, and there, between steam and commotion and large piles of dirty sheets, is a small door to the outside. Robin begs her to stay behind him, and then he opens it.

They walk up dirty concrete stairs into an alleyway. It's totally empty, with nothing but the sound of sirens, alarms, ambulances, and the loud blares of gunfire she tries not to think about.

Robin takes her to the opposite entrance— away from the busy crowded street that is blocked off onto the street behind them. It seems safe enough, when they step out into the light from the alley, the street is eerily abandoned, but at least not chaotic.

"Let's go," Robin urges.

They are almost out of the woods, moving in a hurried pace that is somewhere between walking and running when she hears something whizzing past her. It hits the garbage can next to her and explodes. Robin spins around, eyes wild and scared, loudly cursing and thanking the gods above that she is okay, all the while reacting before she can even think straight, throwing her in front of him as he runs. Another bullet ricochets off a wall, and a third hits the pavement behind them but then it's too late, it seems, the bullets don't reach them when they get to the corner and round the next block.

Things are safe then. There are crowds of people running scared in every direction, but the noise is behind them now, there is safety here, away from the snipers, the bomb, the police...

"Let me see you," he gasps, as he pushes her against a brick wall, people touching them to ask what's wrong, if they were in the building that exploded. God, she must look a mess. But if she does, Robin doesn't seem to care. He parts from her with a smile, running a hand through her hair and wiping what appears to be a trace of soot from her locks.

"You're alive," he says, as if he's not quite sure it's real. She nods, and kisses him again, sweetly. How many kisses have they shared without so much as discussing the fact they had only been friends before this moment?

"I'm alive."

"Thank god," he says, sliding next to her, a little smile on his face as he pants and catches his breath.

"Why us?" She breathes. She feels as if it's safe enough to talk now, as frightened passerbys pull at her, asking questions and demanding answers of her as they walk past her. It feels like hours since the explosion but it has only been minutes, mere minutes, and it's never more apparent than now, when people are still confused as to what is happening, still are on the streets when a gunman is after them.

"We were supposed to be interviewing a woman who has recently escaped the The Earth of Our Savior, those idiots who own all that land in Wyoming and declare it a sovereign nation? It was highly classified; I couldn't tell anyone. The woman told us they were dangerous and would kill her if they found out where she was. Said they have spies everywhere. And we had those Church of God people threatening us so she freaked and cancelled. But that…" he points back at the mess they just left, "is way too organized to be the Church of God. That is  _ them.  _ They are probably looking for her. They didn't get the memo that we cancelled everything last night."

"Why were they shooting at  _ me?" _

"Petite, thin, brunette, well dressed, latina… from above you look like you might be _ …"  _ His eyes go blurry, and she can tell he's going down that dark path, imagining what could have happened had that sniper had better aim. But those are bad memories and harmful possibilities he needn't torture himself with.

"Robin, I'm here." she says, squeezing his hand for effect, "I'm okay. You kept me from harm."

He closes his eyes tight and swallows heavily, letting lose a tear she decides it's best she pretend not to see.

"I couldn't tell you any of this. Only a handful of us knew, and…"

"It's okay, I understand." She does. His job comes with added security clearances, more knowledge as to what is going on. She doesn't expect to be warned about things like that — keeping people like her in the dark is what keeps them safe.

"There shouldn't be anymore... surprises. We are in the clear," Robin says, taking her hand and urging her to walk with him.

Then he points to the CVS that seems to be open down the street. "In here, just a second, I need water."

She does, too. And it's in that little CVS that she first looks at herself in the mirror.

She laughs. No wonder people on the street keep stopping her and asking if she's okay, and if she was in the building when the bomb went off. Her hair has paint chips and dust in it, it's messy and frizzy. Her outfit is speckled with dirt and pieces of plaster, but her makeup…

Her makeup is pristine.

God bless broadcast journalism and the sweat proof, kiss proof, waterproof, bombproof, sniper proof makeup she has, it really has come in handy.

"We look too much like people who have just been close to an explosion," he mutters, staring into the mirror with her. "If we want people to leave us alone, we might want to change that."

It's a good plan. She washes her hands, they are sweaty and dirty and covered in dried blood, but they wash up good as new, the faint red cracks the only evidence of injury from today's events.

She had bought a large water bottle to take to the restroom, and now she's pouring it over the dirty spots of her hair carefully, combing out debris and dust with a brush in the purse she cannot believe she is still carrying (the whole time, since coffee, it's been over her shoulder and she hadn't even noticed it there). Regina dries her hair, as much as she can with the hand drier. he ends are still wet, but most of it is at least dry enough to not raise suspicion or questions on the street. And that's what she wants. To blend in.

She steps out of the bathroom to find Robin doing the same. He's removed his dirty button down shirt and is now using it to wipe at his face and hair. He's in a plain white undershirt that makes him look... very nice.

God, she should not be thinking about how good he looks like now of all times.

"Marian emailed," he smiles at her.  _ Speaking of inappropriate times to think of things. _ "I just was able to hop on next door's wifi. They are at Will's."

Regina cringes. It can't be easy to hear that the man who is caring for your son in a time of crisis is your former best friend, and the man who stole your wife.

"It's okay, It's okay," he assures, "I'm glad he's safe. And Will… he's been trained in private security, so Roland is safe. But the intel is this was an isolated incident with no further planning. No incidents anywhere else for any other family members. I let them know that we are okay, and it looks like I was able to get the email through. Phones are still down...but she should be able to spread the message. We're… we're okay."

The walk out of the store, arm and arm, and it feels physically impossible to be as close as she needs him to be. She reminds herself that she shouldn't  _ need  _ his touch at all, but it is comforting, and she won't deny herself as much of him as she can get.

There's no talk of where they are going. But she knows they are headed to Robin's apartment, to the little two bedroom he rented when he and Marian finally split. She doesn't know where it is, but she knows it's close by.  _ A nice walk on a nice day _ , those are the words he used to describe the location.

So they walk. The crowds are mumbling things now, about a man with a matching gun being killed by the SWAT team, another passerby saying they caught two snipers, too. They callously wonder about the death toll, and Regina tries to block them out.

They reach a fashionable row home that must be Robin's. He opens the door quickly, then turns to the right and opens the first door inside the large brownstone. His apartment, she thinks.

He nearly pulls her inside, slams the door behind her, and then his hand cups her face as if she were the most precious, coveted thing on earth. He walks her back until she's pushed hard against that door, kissing hungrily, every ounce of passion and anxiety bleeding out of him. She kisses him back, hands finding the hem of his tee shirt and working their way underneath, letting out a little  _ mmm!  _ as she runs fingers over the hard abs she knew he had, but it's different to feel them, to finally touch for herself.

God, he's gorgeous.

His fingernails scrape against her scalp. and it makes her shiver and moan into the kiss. He growls in response, biting her lip as the kiss grows aggressive, more needy.

He starts unbuttoning her shirt, the deep maroon, very business appropriate, well fitted top. She wishes for a moment she had worn sexier lingerie. At least she's wearing black. But the bra is not silk or satin or lace, it's a comfortable cotton bandeau. She has a second of shyness about it when Robin tugs at her top, but it all disappears when he sees her and looks like he's about to devour her whole. So she lets him divest her of her shirt, leaving him to stare just as shamelessly as he wants while his hands smooth over her chest. He groans and tells her how sexy she is, and how gorgeous she looks, and if there was any remaining hint of self consciousness, it leaves her at this moment..

He begins to kiss at the exposed flesh, hurried kisses down her neck and collarbone, to her shoulders. Her body hums and responds to the touch like nothing she's ever experienced before, it's pure wanton desire pulsing loudly inside her, begging for relief. And fuck, he can finally soothe her aches with his hands, and cock, and mouth, instead of her just imagining it...

It's acknowledging that this is  _ real  _ that seems to shrink the desperation and panic of the mood, and she remembers for a moment, that this isn't right.

They shouldn't be doing this.

But his hands have moved to her ass now, and it's  _ good _ , it feels so fucking good, and she had always  _ dreamed  _ it would, had always fantasized about how absolutely electric his touch would feel as he stroked her sensitive areas and kissed and  _ kissed,  _ but she never let herself imagine it would feel  _ this  _ incredible.

Regina tries to remember the reasons — the good reasons, valid reasons, why they shouldn't be doing this, but it's hard to think of much of anything when Robin is kissing her like  _ this,  _ pinning her against the door while his hands push her skirt up until it's tucked at her waist, so she can straddle one of his legs and rock against him.

They shouldn't be doing this. How did they lose control so quickly so fast —

"I almost lost you," he mutters. It's heartfelt and honest, but dripping with fear and lust.

"But you didn't," she reminds him, panting between kisses, "I'm right here." She pushes him closer to her, both hands on  _ his  _ ass now — finally, after all this time.

But fuck, they shouldn't be doing this, especially now, especially not knowing how he rest of the office faired. And then there's… Graham.

But Graham isn't here and Robin is currently planting kisses down her neck while running his hands over her body greedily, and it's so damn hot she doesn't care about anything else in the world right now. And there are  _ circumstances,  _ good ones, which have brought them to here, so she supposes they can have  _ this _ , they can let this be, for now.

A near-death experience can be quite the aphrodisiac, it turns out. Because she's never craved him more, and that is saying something. And now, with a leg between her thighs, the sweet building friction is teasing her in the best of ways, making her desire him even more.

"Fuck, Regina, I've wanted you for so long."

It's shocking to hear the words aloud. She's always known it, she supposes, from the moment she met him and she'd felt that spark, looked into his eyes and caught him checking her out in the way she had just done to him.

So it was always there, but she never let herself believe he burned just as hot for her as she did for him. And she certainly never believed that he  _ loved  _ her, that's… a bit my overwhelming to handle for now, so she'd rather focus on the way his muscles feel, tending and relaxing under her touch, how he's hard and ready against her hip…

"Wanted you, too," she gasps into his ear, kissing and sucking down his throat. "So much, all the time, Robin…"

He cups her chin, guides her back to his mouth and kisses her deeply, while his hands hold her, encourage her to rock more against him. She grabs at his shirt and pulls it off his body in a furied motion, then takes her time kissing all over his chest.

She's wanted to do this, she's thought about doing this a thousand times, alone in bed (sometimes  _ not  _ alone in bed, though she dare not admit that), and she might not ever get  _ this  _ again, so she better damn well do everything she's ever imagined.

Her hands fly to his belt, fumbling with the buckle. The action seems to surprise him, he gasps into the heady kiss, then growls a  _ God, yes  _  and toes out of his shoes while she takes off his pants. They pool to the ground, and there's an awkward moment where he pends down to step out of them and to take off his socks. It's sweet, almost funny, but when he looks back at her with his heated gaze, there's nothing worth laughing about.

"Come here, darling," he murmurs, grabbing her by the hips and spinning her, so she's in front of him, her back to his chest. He directs her, walks her to his bedroom as he kisses her neck. He's incredibly hard and thrusting a bit behind her as they walk clumsily to the bedroom.

The second she steps in the bedroom he urges her face to meet his, pulls her in for another kiss. It's... an awkward angle but it's  _ hot,  _ especially with how she can feel him behind her.

He grabs at her ass, and then attacks the rucked-up skirt that's still laying around her waist. She's worried he's about to rip it down the middle, and is grateful to hear and feel the work of a zipper instead.

Regina toes out of it and her shoes. She can't see his expression, so she's caught by surprise when she hears him moan as he cups at her behind.

It's not like he didn't have nearly the same view before, minus a little scrap of skirt around her waist, but it must feel different to  _ him,  _ seeing herin a bra and panties and nothing else.

"Your ass…" he moans, "God I've wanted to see you like this." He continues to knead at her while he kisses her neck. "It's better than I ever imagined."

He shouldn't be saying these things, things that make her needier and desperate and to the point of aching for release, but he's doing them anyway, and she needs him more than air.

"What else did you think about?" She asks in a heavy pant, turning her face towards him, so he can whisper in her ear. His hands move slowly up her body, until they reached her breasts. He cups and strokes her through her bra, groaning.

"Thought about these, more times than I care to admit," he rasps, "Thought about how they'd feel in my hands, in my mouth…"

"Oh god!"

Regina is squirming now, wet and aching between her legs and desperate for relief. He is preoccupied, however. He has a strong hand on her breasts, while the other is painfully slowly taking the strap of her bra down, down, down.

Fuck it, she'll take matters into her own hands.

She slides her palm down her sides, lets them catch under the hem of black cotton, and then, slides them off until they are at her feet.

"I want you," she pants. She moves her hand blindly behind her, reaching to touch him, to stroke him. "Please."

He groans as he removes the last of her bra, then runs fingers up her neck, scratching up her scalp and messing her hair, planting a kiss in the thick tresses.

"You're perfect, you're so bloody perfect."

He slides a hand between her legs, moaning and spilling curses as he slides fingers through her wet folds. Regina hisses a  _ Yessss  _  at the contact. He's warm, so fucking warm, and his fingers are calloused and rough and somehow that adds something incredible to the feeling of being touched like this.

"You're so fucking wet," he pants, nipping her ear, as if it's a surprise, as if he was somehow blind to how incredibly turned on she's been since the moment she stepped in his apartment.

"Fuck me," she whispers, "Please Robin, just…"

Two strong fingers slip inside her, curving expertly into her. The angle may somewhat compromise things, but he's skilled at this, and it has her bucking and moaning as he picks up pace.

"I want—"

"I want it too, Regina, so badly, you've no idea."

"Take it," she nearly whines, arching her back and grinding into his erection in a way that has him groaning.

"I want to taste you," he argues, hot breath in her ear.

"Later,  _ mmm _ ! Please now I just want you like this."

"Do I need— I don't have, um condoms…"

"No, I trust you...Robin  _ please _ !" she cries, frustrated. Who the hell has time to worry about condoms, when they very nearly died moments ago? She's on the pill, and even if she weren't, it would take a fucking nuclear attack to keep her from finally, finally feeling him inside her.

He spins them, so she's facing the wall. Regina leans her hands against it for purchase, and he separates her legs a bit, one hand on her hip while the other must be guiding him in, because she feels his fingers on her sex just before she feels the tip of him slicking through her wetness.

He thrusts into her like she needs, like she desperately has craved, and they groan in unison. He's thicker than Graham, fills her in a way she hasn't been before, and she loves it. She'd let herself believe, in those moments when she was home at night with a vibrator in hand, thinking of what it would be like to have more than just  _ coffee  _ with Robin - and she'd dreamed it would feel good, dreamed he'd be thick and hard, but imagining and actually experiencing are different things, and it still takes her aback.

It feels so good, feels so right. God, they should have done this sooner.

"Go hard," she breathes, bracing herself against the wall.

He must need the same thing she does, because he doesn't argue, he just gives her what she asks for, setting a frantic, fierce pace that's completely at odds with the words of love and affection coming out of his mouth. He's telling her how beautiful she is, how much he thinks of her, every day, how he's dreamt of her, longed for her, wanted her. He's thrusting hard, a hand gripping her hip as he tells her how beautiful and brilliant and caring she is, how he couldn't imagine anyone more perfect on this god forsaken earth.

She's glad they are fucking this way, because if he saw the tears form, he might stop and worry, and she doesn't want that.

The tears are of happiness, of relief of finally feeling alive for the first time in years despite almost having died, and she won't let go of this feeling, not ever.

She leans a bit into the wall, and the angle changes, becomes just right, turns the steady thrumming of her body into white hot jolts of pleasure. That hand on her hip moves, hooks around between her legs. Calloused fingers rub roughly at her clit in a way that sets her on fire.

"Oh God, that's it, just like that!" she gasps, biting her lip hard as she anchors herself against the wall and surrenders to the feeling, crying out at every hard thrust.

"That's it, beautiful," he rasps into her ear, "let go for me, let me feel it, you feel so good, so warm, and wet and tight, want to feel you come around me... god, you feel so good, darling, you've no idea, I—"

Orgasm bursts inside her, unleashes in warm waves that zing and ricochet inside her veins, down to her bones and up her spine. For a moment her mind is blissfully blank, and then she feels weightless, and tingly. Her knees begin to shake as she settles down, and Robin brings the hand that was rubbing her clit back up to her stomach, holding her steady as he thrusts.

"Feels so good when you come." His voice is reedy and desperate, and hot as all hell. "God, Regina, I want to, — god, I need to come."

"Yessss," she hisses, reaching behind her to grab at his ass, just to urge him along. It's a simple, encouraging touch, but it does the trick, has him crying out her name with pure need before he pulls out and spills against her ass, pressing firmly against her as he comes. The feeling of those little spasms against her cheeks is indescribably hot, and she wants to feel this, with him, forever.

"Oh my god." She is still leaning against the wall, trying to find her breath, her footing, her mind, her sanity. She's been fucked before, nearly every way imaginable, but nothing has felt like this.

Robin manages an  _ I know, god I know  _  between his labored pants. She feels the hot puffs against her ear, tickling and soothing at the same time. She's just come, but it thrills her, knowing how absolutely spent he is after a few precious minutes inside her.

"You okay?" he whispers into her ear after a few minutes. He's wiping a cloth of some type over her back, cleaning her of him. She remembers him leaving her for a second, but she hasn't moved from that spot. Hasn't even turned around, is still bracing herself against the wall, as if paralyzed.

"I can't feel my legs," Regina admits, chuckling shyly.

She lets out a little squeak when she feels his arms wrap around her and lift her up.

He carries her as if she were made of air, and then deposits her on the bed. He joins her, cuddling up next to her naked body, pressing a kiss into her hair. She is still panting, shaking a bit, struggling to catch her breath with the adrenaline pumping through her blood, the emotions swirling in her heart, the tingling remnants of her orgasm still zinging through nerve endings.

He shares a knowing smile with her. "I'm still recovering, too," he admits, pressing a kiss into her knuckles. "It was good though, right? It felt…"

Regina rolls her eyes, biting her lip to keep her smile down. "What do you think?" she whispers, "Half my body is numb, and I think I may have worried the neighbors by screaming."

She snuggles into him, confessing, "I can still feel it…" and she closes her eyes just a bit and focuses on the slight, dwindling pulses of pleasure still thrumming in her body. "It was  _ very  _ good. For me, anyway."

She knows he loved it, but she needs to hear him say it. She expects him to make a cheeky joke to avoid admitting how much he enjoyed himself — that's very  _ Robin _ , after all, but he just smiles and shakes his head.

"It was... shorter than I would have liked," he admits,stroking her hair tenderly and kissing her brow. "My fault of course. But it was still the best…" he kisses her lips sweetly, "sex I've had in my life. Though there were a few things I might have liked to indulge in I'm kicking myself for missing."

"Oh?" She says coyly, "What things?"

"Give me four minutes and I'll show you," he says with a playful wink.

Regina laughs. They need to get back to facing a very grim reality soon, but it seems they are still in a bubble, and she will gladly say there for as long as she can. She'll take a few more minutes of pretending the world around them does not exist. So she indulges, taking a good long look at his naked body, and traces the muscles of his stomach, his arms, sighing at each dip and curve.

"Enjoying yourself?"

"Yes. I like looking at you," she admits, letting her eyes roam all over his form greedily, glad she no longer has to hide these gawking glances from him. She used to be so sly, so careful when she'd check out his ass, or stare at the muscles in his arms during those late nights when he rolled up his sleeves and loosened his tie... god she'd want him so badly then that it would take everything in her to put those desires out of her mind and focus on work.

She doesn't have to do that anymore. She can linger one every part of his beautiful face and body as long as she wants.

She can do more than just look, too.

She kisses him, deeply, with tongue, purely because she can. He responds to her with the same vigor she puts into it. When she pulls away he very much looks like the cat who ate the canary. He skims the back of his hand down her cheek and murmurs, "You are so incredibly gorgeous. I can't  _ stop _ looking at you."

She feels her cheeks heat as she shyly thanks him, leaning in to press her lips to the tip of his nose.

"How long?" Regina sighs, smoothes her hair, pushing away the nervous energy. "How long have you felt.. like this?"

"Hmm…" he turns towards her on his side, tucking a hand underneath his pillow. "How long since I've wanted to fuck you, or how long since I fell in love with you?"

It thrills her, hearing him say he loves her again. There's a part of her that wants to run and hide, but she's been through enough actual danger today, she shouldn't let herself be scared of her best friend loving her (she still has trouble believing he really loves her, it seems to good to be true)..

"Both," she answers, rubbing a thumb over his cheek, grinning from ear to ear.

"Falling in love with you wasn't just one moment," he replies, "it happened slowly. A thousand little things all added to one big thing. There was the day I had to bring Roland in to work, and he was sick and cranky. We were all run down, covering the primaries, do you remember? And you were so kind to him. So then I felt… something. And then that one night when we had to stay late to rewrite the interview for the Israeli Prime Minister… that's when I knew."

She thinks back to that night, years ago, and smiles. That's when she knew, too. That memory reminds her that their newsroom may no longer exist. It might have been destroyed by the bombs, but she forces those thoughts out of her mind. She's going to stay in this protective bubble of soft touches and warm kisses just a bit longer before she has to relive the terrifying events of earlier in the day.

She almost died. She's owed a few minutes off.

Robin seems to know what she's thinking because he becomes intent on lightening the mood. "Now… the first time I met you, you were wearing this blue dress. It tied in the back, and there was a silver zipper that went all the way down your ass, so…" He winks at her. "I've been wanting to fuck you since the very moment I laid eyes on you."

She chuckles, and wraps a leg around his waist. "I like that dress. I still have it."

"Mmm. I know. It still makes it into the rotation every now and then," he hums. "Every time you wear it, I can't concentrate on anything else."

"I catch you looking at me sometimes," she admits.

"I thought I was so careful," he laughs, obviously embarrassed, "I'm technically your boss, I shouldn't be staring at your ass like I do."

"I love it," she whispers. She tightens her leg around him, and rocks herself against him. He's already half-hard against her, which is good, because she already wants him again. "Love catching you looking at me like that. It used to make me so hot."

"Yeah?" he asks, and he's thrusting a bit into her too, running a hand down her back. His touch sends shivers up her spine, makes her feel warm and loved all at once.

"Mhmm." She draws him into a kiss, her hands cupping his cheek softly, but it's not a gentle kiss. "I check you out too sometimes, you know."

"Liar," he rasps. He urges her to lay on her back, to disentangle herself from him. She mourns the loss of the friction that's been building between them, until his mouth covers her nipple, sucking and slurping in a way that drives her crazy.

"Company retreat, last year, you were sweating through your shirt after those relay races— o _ h that's good _ !" She throws her head back, moaning indulgently. "Kept hoping you'd take your shirt off, but —- _ mm!  _ — you never did."

"So sensitive," he mutters, kissing tenderly between her breasts, "thank god, because I plan on spending a lot of time here in the future." He pecks a kiss into the side of each breast, then swirls his tongue around one nipple before giving the other the same treatment.

Regina groans, and thrusts into what she can. His body is between her legs, and she can't very well gain any friction by thrusting into his torso, but she finds herself writhing anyway, revelling in the sharp currents of bliss that zing and pop inside her.

He's kissing a line down her stomach, sucking kisses and licking between ribs as his beard scruffs against her skin as he shimmies down her body. It's… right between pleasure and pain, has her aching for him and yet feeling the slightest bit ticklish at the same time.

"Gonna go down on you," he says before licking a circle around her belly button and planting a sucking kiss over it. "Like I wanted to before. Is that alright?"

"It's  _ very  _ alright, _ "  _ she assures, running fingers through his hair as he kisses down her pelvis.

He moves further down her body, placing two firm hands on her thighs and pushing them apart.

"God, you're gorgeous," he gasps. She looks down to find him looking at her… awestruck, eyes dark and hungry. "And so very, very wet."

He kisses up her left thigh, and then her right, tongue tracing a line of fire, until he's close, so close, but not quite there.

"You've no idea how long I've wanted this," he sighs into her sex, before finally licking deeply between her folds. " _ Mm _ , darling, you taste so, so good," he samples her again, lapping up her wetness as if he were a starved man.

"Oh,  _ fuck _ ," he's panting against her in heavy breaths as he continues to eat at her, and it's good, but not quite where she craves, "god, you're perfect."

Her hands are in his hair, and she's restless and turned on to the point of pain, so she palms his head and attempts to move him up to where she needs him. He resists, and she feels his warm breath right on her clit.

"Soon," he promises, swirling his tongue around her clit, but not touching it, not giving her the stimulation she needs, but getting her close, so close.

He continues to kiss and lick her sex, teasing her, until her clit is throbbing and she's crying out for him to touch her where she needs it, where he  _ knows _ she needs it, and  _ god, Robin, please _ …

He's so obviously affected, moaning and grunting at every word that comes out of her mouth, spilling curses into her folds as he licks and sucks.

"Wanted this for so long," Robin moans, before finally placing his god damned mouth where she's begged for it. She's so pent up, the feeling is almost indescribable. "Thought about this more times than you'll ever know."

"Me too," she moans. Her hands fly up behind her, bracing against the headboard as her body starts to move independent of herself, the swirling, sucking pleasure driving her crazy, and it won't be long now, she's so, so close.

She feels fingers circle her entrance, test her gently. "Do you like this, darling?" he asks into her sex, stroking her gently. Shit, this is their first time doing everything, they've never even discussed, he doesn't know…

And even without knowing her, he's doing quite a good job.

" _ Yesss _ ," she hisses, arching into his touch. The angle is perfect, on his first try, and hell, that's damn near magical, two firm fingers hitting her exactly where they need to be with every thrust. "God, that's— you feel so, so good."

She lets herself babble and cry out, there's no sense in holding back anything anymore. She almost died, and she's going to use her voice and lungs to their full capacity, thank you very much. But the sounds she hears coming from her lips shock her, the whining little moans, breathy sighs, deep, soulful groans…

He's moaning too, she can feel the soft vibrations on her clit as he makes desperate little growls. He's rocking against the mattress, working himself up as he eats her, and something about that is incredibly hot to her, sends her over the edge.

"Fuck, Oh god, Robin, I'm going to—" It's pure, hot waves of blissful energy that shoot inside her, ebbing and flowing, spreading out from her core, up her spine and down to her toes as she comes and comes.

He groans into her sex, lapping up every drop of her arousal as he lets her ride his fingers until she reaches down and stops their movement. She's boneless and sweaty, but not quite ready to stop for the night.

"I want you inside me again," she whispers.

He hesitates, though she knows he wants this as badly as she does, and she could just about cry for how much he cares about her, but she urges him up, spreading her legs and begging for him to take her again.

"I need you." She wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him deeply while she squeezes shamelessly at his ass.

"Need you too,  _ god _ , so much, Regina." He groans into the kiss eagerly, sounding all pent up and ready for her.

He guides himself in, more gently than the last time. This time she can watch his face as he enters her, can watch the way his jaw drops at the feeling of her, the way his eyes shut tight, muscles tensing as he groans and utters praises about how good she feels.

She grips at his ass, urging him to fuck her. She's just come down from an orgasm, is entirely certain this will be for  _ him,  _ but the way he's looking at her, the way he sounds and feels, she could maybe, she could…

He's moving slowly inside her though, gentle and steady and sweet, but not exactly what she craves. She urges him to move faster, nipping his ear and breathing  _ More  _ against it.

And he listens, breathes a  _ Thank god  _ as the pace quickens and becomes more erratic. She bends her knees, then wraps her legs around him, and that's when the angle becomes exactly what she needs. Instead of the steady, building pleasure, this new angle has currents of ecstasy strumming through her.

"So good," she gasps, "I'm gonna—- I can—"

"I feel it, oh, darling I feel it," he gasps. His eyes are screwed tight, body tense, and she's sure he's close, fighting it, fighting his release, waiting for her.

"Faster," she begs, wrapping her legs around him tighter. He does, every thrust pressing against her clit in the best of ways, as he hits deep inside of her just where she needs.

"Oh god, Robin, I'm —-"

It's a different type of release, it burns hot and hard, washes over her body in a passionate current, leaving her dizzy and breathless.

He's just behind her, due to come at any second. And that reminds her.

"Come inside me," she breathes. She wants to feel close, to feel connected to him, so she doesn't want him pulling out of her like they are casual fuck friends or strangers, because it's so much more than that.

It's all he needs to hear to drive him over the edge, and he grunts and tenses, spilling inside her with a shout of her name.

They trade kisses for awhile, until he softens and finally pulls out, flopping down beside her. He urges her to lay on his chest, and she goes easily, like she was meant to be there.

She doesn't know what this all means, and wonders if despite their attraction, despite the feelings they have, he will regret this. That maybe when the emotions of the day calm down, he'll recharacterize what he feels for her as infatuation, not love. It's their careers, after all, and frankly she doesn't feel worth the risk.

"Is this just… a result of a near-death experience?" she asks shyly, unable to swallow down her fears. She has to know what he's thinking. "That can happen, you know. We've covered that phenomenon." Sudden, intense trauma causes people to act recklessly and impulsively, in many areas of life, love and sexual activity included.

"God no. That's not what it is. Not for me." He kisses her sweetly, tangles his fingers in hers and shakes his head. "The moment that bomb went off, all I kept thinking was how much I regretted never telling you how I felt, all these years. Even when Marian and I were still trying to work it out... you had my heart, Regina. I tried to deny it, but all I wanted was a life with you."

"I do too..." she admits. "I just... with work, and—"

"Our employer will have to understand that sometimes relationships form when security breaches cause them to almost lose their lives," Robin snarks bitterly. "And if they fire me and this costs me a ding in my professional career, I don't care. I'd take you over this job or any job in a heartbeat. I'd take you over anything in this world, less for my son."

Yesterday she had accepted a proposal from a man who doesn't love her, only because she felt she was undeserving of any better. And today, the man who she has felt deserves  _ everything  _ wants  _ her.  _ All of her. He knows her demons, her flaws, her weaknesses. And he loves her anyway. Loves her so much he'd be willing to give up everything for her. It's... too much. She never felt worthy of this type of love, of this passion…

And if he can risk everything for her, she can be brave, too. She can stick her neck out and open herself up to him.

"I... I don't really think I'm worth all that," she starts, but when he protests, she holds up her hand to silence him. "I don't, but I'm selfish. And I want this, so badly. The only thing I cared about the second I heard the explosion was finding you. I was terrified, thinking something could have happened to you. And I've never been more relieved in my all my life than when you opened the door and I saw you alive. Because, Robin, I love you," she whispers into his chest, "I've loved you for so long."

He steals another kiss from her, wide eyed and giddy at the sound of those words being repeated back to him.

"So this is it now, you and me?" He asks, drawing her thigh up and over his body. He nuzzles into her hair, and he feels warm and safe and  _ hers. _

"Yes," she responds, her voice is confident and strong.

In the space of hours she's risked her own life for the man beside her, and watched him risk his for her several times over. She's found the person she would want to be with when the world ends.

She's never giving that up. Not willingly. Not ever.


End file.
